Song | Time Rag |
Artist | Joan Baez |
Album | Blowin' Away |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Baez | |
Ripping along towards middle age | |
And my music career kind of missed a page | |
Record sales began to drop | |
The management all began to hop | |
Not worry, they said, you'll see | |
What you need is some fresh publicity | |
Just give us a nod and we'll all leap | |
Towards putting you back at the top of the heap | |
I said, Fine, I'll give it a whack | |
I hung up the phone and I turned my back | |
Began daydreaming I was somebody else | |
When the phone jumped over from the wall to the shelf | |
We just had a break, this is really fine | |
We can make the January issue of TIME | |
If you'll give us Monday, a week from today | |
From two to four, now what do you say? | |
I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
But I scribbled it down on the wall calendar | |
And wondered about my interviewer | |
Maybe he'd be just a real nice guy | |
Bright and sympathetic with a roving eye | |
We'd forget all about the assignment due | |
Formalities, photos, and the interview | |
We'd hop on into his big rent-a-car | |
Go for a lovely drive, not far....maybe France | |
As the big day approached it slipped my mind | |
Till my secretary showed up at the house to remind | |
Me to switch into gear for the big coup de gras | |
The meeting with the man from the media | |
I swept the driveway and polished the phone | |
Put on a Kenzo knit in two-tone | |
Fluffed the pillows in the burgundy chair | |
Made up my eyes and brushed my hair...all in that order | |
When he called to say he was three hours late | |
My cheerful facade began to disintegrate | |
The photographer'd be even later still | |
She was hopelessly lost in the nearby hills | |
He arrived not exactly the man of my dreams | |
Not bad for a rep from the Timese machine | |
Asked me a wandering question or three | |
And I thought he was actually listening to me | |
And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
Curious about his interest | |
I babbled my way through the worldwide list | |
Ireland, Chile and the African states | |
Poetry, politics and how they relate | |
Motherhood, music and Moog synthesizers | |
Political prisoners and Commie sympathizers | |
Hetero, homo and bisexuality | |
Where they all stand in the nineteen-seventies | |
Then suddenly it stopped and he started to lobby | |
Said, Tell me some inside stuff about Bobby | |
Bobby who? I smiled and said | |
And the TIME man's face was laced with red | |
I know you guys used to know each other | |
I know you refer to him as being your brother | |
And I know that you know where he's coming from | |
I said, You know alot for being so Goddamned dumb | |
And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
Well I never gave him quite what he came for | |
The inside story and it's really a shame | |
For I never made the January issue of TIME | |
And just before I run out of words that rhyme | |
I really should tell you that deep in my heart | |
I don't give a damn where I stand on the charts | |
Not as long as the sun sinks into the west | |
And that's going to be a pretty serious test.....of time |
zuo ci : Baez | |
Ripping along towards middle age | |
And my music career kind of missed a page | |
Record sales began to drop | |
The management all began to hop | |
Not worry, they said, you' ll see | |
What you need is some fresh publicity | |
Just give us a nod and we' ll all leap | |
Towards putting you back at the top of the heap | |
I said, Fine, I' ll give it a whack | |
I hung up the phone and I turned my back | |
Began daydreaming I was somebody else | |
When the phone jumped over from the wall to the shelf | |
We just had a break, this is really fine | |
We can make the January issue of TIME | |
If you' ll give us Monday, a week from today | |
From two to four, now what do you say? | |
I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
But I scribbled it down on the wall calendar | |
And wondered about my interviewer | |
Maybe he' d be just a real nice guy | |
Bright and sympathetic with a roving eye | |
We' d forget all about the assignment due | |
Formalities, photos, and the interview | |
We' d hop on into his big rentacar | |
Go for a lovely drive, not far.... maybe France | |
As the big day approached it slipped my mind | |
Till my secretary showed up at the house to remind | |
Me to switch into gear for the big coup de gras | |
The meeting with the man from the media | |
I swept the driveway and polished the phone | |
Put on a Kenzo knit in twotone | |
Fluffed the pillows in the burgundy chair | |
Made up my eyes and brushed my hair... all in that order | |
When he called to say he was three hours late | |
My cheerful facade began to disintegrate | |
The photographer' d be even later still | |
She was hopelessly lost in the nearby hills | |
He arrived not exactly the man of my dreams | |
Not bad for a rep from the Timese machine | |
Asked me a wandering question or three | |
And I thought he was actually listening to me | |
And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
Curious about his interest | |
I babbled my way through the worldwide list | |
Ireland, Chile and the African states | |
Poetry, politics and how they relate | |
Motherhood, music and Moog synthesizers | |
Political prisoners and Commie sympathizers | |
Hetero, homo and bisexuality | |
Where they all stand in the nineteenseventies | |
Then suddenly it stopped and he started to lobby | |
Said, Tell me some inside stuff about Bobby | |
Bobby who? I smiled and said | |
And the TIME man' s face was laced with red | |
I know you guys used to know each other | |
I know you refer to him as being your brother | |
And I know that you know where he' s coming from | |
I said, You know alot for being so Goddamned dumb | |
And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
Well I never gave him quite what he came for | |
The inside story and it' s really a shame | |
For I never made the January issue of TIME | |
And just before I run out of words that rhyme | |
I really should tell you that deep in my heart | |
I don' t give a damn where I stand on the charts | |
Not as long as the sun sinks into the west | |
And that' s going to be a pretty serious test..... of time |
zuò cí : Baez | |
Ripping along towards middle age | |
And my music career kind of missed a page | |
Record sales began to drop | |
The management all began to hop | |
Not worry, they said, you' ll see | |
What you need is some fresh publicity | |
Just give us a nod and we' ll all leap | |
Towards putting you back at the top of the heap | |
I said, Fine, I' ll give it a whack | |
I hung up the phone and I turned my back | |
Began daydreaming I was somebody else | |
When the phone jumped over from the wall to the shelf | |
We just had a break, this is really fine | |
We can make the January issue of TIME | |
If you' ll give us Monday, a week from today | |
From two to four, now what do you say? | |
I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
But I scribbled it down on the wall calendar | |
And wondered about my interviewer | |
Maybe he' d be just a real nice guy | |
Bright and sympathetic with a roving eye | |
We' d forget all about the assignment due | |
Formalities, photos, and the interview | |
We' d hop on into his big rentacar | |
Go for a lovely drive, not far.... maybe France | |
As the big day approached it slipped my mind | |
Till my secretary showed up at the house to remind | |
Me to switch into gear for the big coup de gras | |
The meeting with the man from the media | |
I swept the driveway and polished the phone | |
Put on a Kenzo knit in twotone | |
Fluffed the pillows in the burgundy chair | |
Made up my eyes and brushed my hair... all in that order | |
When he called to say he was three hours late | |
My cheerful facade began to disintegrate | |
The photographer' d be even later still | |
She was hopelessly lost in the nearby hills | |
He arrived not exactly the man of my dreams | |
Not bad for a rep from the Timese machine | |
Asked me a wandering question or three | |
And I thought he was actually listening to me | |
And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
Curious about his interest | |
I babbled my way through the worldwide list | |
Ireland, Chile and the African states | |
Poetry, politics and how they relate | |
Motherhood, music and Moog synthesizers | |
Political prisoners and Commie sympathizers | |
Hetero, homo and bisexuality | |
Where they all stand in the nineteenseventies | |
Then suddenly it stopped and he started to lobby | |
Said, Tell me some inside stuff about Bobby | |
Bobby who? I smiled and said | |
And the TIME man' s face was laced with red | |
I know you guys used to know each other | |
I know you refer to him as being your brother | |
And I know that you know where he' s coming from | |
I said, You know alot for being so Goddamned dumb | |
And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag | |
You got me on the rag, rag | |
Take your insults about the queen | |
And shove them up your royal Timese machine | |
Well I never gave him quite what he came for | |
The inside story and it' s really a shame | |
For I never made the January issue of TIME | |
And just before I run out of words that rhyme | |
I really should tell you that deep in my heart | |
I don' t give a damn where I stand on the charts | |
Not as long as the sun sinks into the west | |
And that' s going to be a pretty serious test..... of time |